


A Gift of Soap

by BleuWaters



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F.L.U.F.F., F/M, Fluff, but mainly fluff, seriously? just fluff, teensy bit of angst maybe I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuWaters/pseuds/BleuWaters
Summary: Armin Arlert x reader. Armin bought his baby a present to tell her how much he loves her. But he also just tells her.





	A Gift of Soap

“Good morning,” chirps Armin, popping a kiss to your offered cheek. He lays down beside you in the grass damp with dew, warm rays of sunshine stretching out over the meadows.

 

“Good morning,” you reply happily, curling up against him, throwing your arm over his waist. You have a sigh. You've missed him while he was out on an expedition. You worried about him.

 

“I bought you something from one of the Washington refugees.”

 

You lift your head and look at him. The Washington District was obliterated; less than three percent of the population made it out alive. For a refugee to sell something? Either they were desperate, which is entirely likely, or Armin offered a large sum, which is equally likely.

 

You both sit up, and he produces a small parcel from his pocket. It fits nicely in his hand, wrapped in a white linen handkerchief, and you find that it's surprisingly heavy for its size when you take it, a dense and solid block. After unwrapping it, you gasp.

 

Sitting on the soft cloth is a flawless bar of pale blue soap. Your fingertip traces the curve of it, the material satiny and luxurious, of the highest quality. Expert craftsmanship was put into it, the delicate texture proving as much.

 

“Oh, I can't possibly accept this…” you murmur, lifting the bar to your nose. It smells very strongly of wild rose and honeysuckle, so luscious it makes you feel a bit light-headed.

 

“It was homemade by an old woman named Ruth. She had a garden and used the flowers to make small batches of soap. This was her last bar,” explains Armin, lifting the hand you hold the soap in up to his own nose so he can take another whiff, “I told her I wanted it for the woman I love.” The two of you share a bashful blush, and you lean into his hand when he slides his fingers through your hair.

 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I love it, I really do.”

 

“Good.” He smiles sweetly and places a feather-light kiss on the tip of your nose. “You're so pretty.”

 

You blush darker, unable to look at him though a beaming smile spreads across your face.

 

“You're my world.”

 

You listen quietly, holding the soap to your nose and watching the ground.

 

“You're my everything. I couldn't live without you.”

 

“Yes, you could,” you breathe.

 

“There's a difference between existing and living.” Armin wraps his arms around you from behind, tucking his chin against the junction of your shoulder and neck. “Hm...I don't know if I could even exist without you.”

 

“Yes, you could,” you insist.

 

“I wouldn't want to.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love the soap.”

 

“I love you.”

 

You smile softly, taking both of his hands in yours and lacing your fingers together. “Let's not worry about...losing each other. Let's always enjoy the now that we have together.”

 

“It's hard to. Death… is looming. It's a promise; the price of life.”

 

“It is,” you agree, hesitating when you feel a faint, tickling kiss against your neck, “But we have each other now. If we don't entirely value the now, we'll forever wish we had.”

 

“You're right.” He presses more firmly and lays a graceful line of kisses up to your ear. His soft lips ghost over the shell of it, shooting hot air against your skin. “I adore you…”

 

“You're quite the romantic.”

 

“Only the best for you, beloved.”

 

“The best of the best?”

 

“Always.” He taps the bar of soap balanced on your knee, but he doesn't let go of your hand. “The best of the best of the best. I promise.”

 

“Oh, Armin...” Tugging your hand free, you lift it to slide your fingers into his blonde hair. “My sweet Armin…”

 

Kisses flutter against your jaw and, when you turn your face, you get a gently firm one on the mouth. What a delectable kisser he is, with sweet words and a tenderness that is scarcer than uncommon…

 

Such care he takes with you…

 

He's better than fiction, and is nearly perfect, you're sure.

 

It's enough to put every romance writer to shame.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm about to vomit cotton candy. I don't usually write such sickly-sweet sappiness. LOL. Please leave kudos and comments! I love 'em both and they only take a couple seconds.


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